


stuck here in a life that repeats

by got2ghost



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/got2ghost/pseuds/got2ghost
Summary: It’s been a year of living here already. If Kuroo wanted to move in, he would have said so, so there’s no point in talking about it, when he’s made his choice.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 36
Kudos: 417
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics, Recommended KuroKen Fics





	stuck here in a life that repeats

Kenma mulls over the words Shouyou had left him with this morning. His eyes serious as he’d said, _I like Tobio as more than a friend._

 _What are you going to do about it?_ He’d asked, politely, of course, for conversation. He wasn’t surprised by this. It looked like Shouyou had already thought it over, so he wasn’t frazzled over it. Or maybe it was their age now that they were in their early twenties. He had this small smile, instead, eyes cast down, like he was lost in thought, thinking about Tobio enough to pull his lips up like that.

_I’m going to tell him, of course! Once I get past auditions and we play our first real game. I’m going to tell him how I feel._

His eyes trail over to where Kuroo’s half asleep, tie undone, mumbling to himself while reading over contracts for the Olympics. It seems tedious and it’s taken him days so far. Kenma nudges him with his foot, just to get him to stop mumbling.

“Oi, Kuro. You’re falling asleep again. Go home already,” Kenma says, leaning forward on to his fists. 

“What, you don’t want me to be here? You let Shrimpy stay here without complaining once.”

“That’s different. Shouyou didn’t have anywhere to stay. You have an apartment that you’re paying money for.”

Kuroo clicks his tongue and stretches back with a loud sigh. “Your place is so much quieter, though. They’re still not done renovating and the elevator takes so long,” he complains.

“You’re the one who wanted the skyscraper view.”

“I did.”

Kuroo smiles, turning his head away before Kenma can tell if it disappears or not. They don’t talk about it. Even though he wants to say, if you wanted to stay here and live with me, I wouldn’t have said no. In fact, I thought you were going to ask me when you helped me pick out this place. You were so excited for the porch and the old, dried up koi pond in the back that you called charming, even though I don’t like fish. And you said the floors would be cold and creaky in the winter, but we always managed to get through it somehow. 

It’s been a year of living here already. If Kuroo wanted to move in, he would have said so, so there’s no point in talking about it, when he’s made his choice. 

He has a skyscraper view and it’s the size of a closet. He’d been past his partying phase when he picked the apartment — so there’s no clutter from girls and boys he’s seeing off and on. The washer-dryer unit is too small to do proper loads of laundry, and he says it’s noisy at night. It’s all these spaces that Kenma feels like he’s uninvited to. 

“Then go to it, for all I care,” Kenma says, shifting his mouth into his palm so he can scrape his teeth against the skin there. Kuroo doesn’t hear him. He’s back to his work and Kenma lays back against the tatami and thinks about Shouyou’s words.

He envies Shouyou. He’s so clear on how he feels for Kageyama. 

_What about you, Kenma. Isn’t there anyone you like?_

Does he like Kuroo? He likes him just fine and he wouldn’t be friends with him for this long if he didn’t. He even loves him, cares for him. But isn’t that too simple? Words like like or even love. He’s known Kuroo longer than he hasn’t. Being with him is comforting, like a well worn shirt. They’ve always staggered each other in life— Kuroo moving on to middle school, high school and college before Kenma. Sometimes they’d be on the same page and then Kuroo would move on again, waiting for Kenma to catch up. And now here they are, 24 and 25. There’s no more catching up to do, so they’ve stagnated.

When he looks at Kuroo, his heart doesn’t beat faster than it does at his slow heart rate of 62 beats per minute. When he thinks about Kuroo, it’s mostly just this, their quietness and Kuroo’s scratchy voice getting scratchier by the cigarettes he smokes. There’s an ashtray here for him and now Kenma associates the smell with Kuroo, even when he’s walking down to the konbini for a snack and smells it lingering in an alleyway. 

Even if Kuroo doesn’t live here, he still keeps his things here, loads of unwashed laundry and his cigarette smell. That should be enough. Kenma should be satisfied with that. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Kuroo observes. Kenma can’t see his face from here and just makes a noise to notify him that he’s still alive and awake. “What’s on your mind?” 

“Shouyou,” Kenma says after a moment, because in a vague, generalized way, thinking about Shouyou made him think about everything else.

“Bokuto said he’s in MSBY, no question.”

“Not that. Just— other stuff.”

“Hm,” Kuroo says, stretching his foot out to nudge Kenma’s. He’s not sure if it’s his secret to tell, but he supposes that Hinata wouldn’t mind. It’s not like Kuroo is a gossip, either. 

“He’s going to confess to Kageyama.” _It’s a long time coming._ That’s what he’s expecting, but instead, Kuroo says, “Ah.”

There’s a long pause that becomes uncomfortable. Kenma can hear his nails scraping through his 5 o’clock shadow. “And you’re sad about it?”

“Why would I be sad?” 

“You like Hinata,” he says, gently, like he’s trying not to wake Kenma. Kenma sits up quickly, eyes focusing on Kuroo, who looks more tired than he did five minutes ago. He narrows his eyes at the stiff way Kuroo holds himself. 

“Why do you think that?” 

“It’s… kind of obvious.” He blinks at the wrongness of that statement. Displeasure curls up in his lungs. Kuroo looks carefully blank, The politician. The tactician. It gives away more than if he were open and honest with Kenma. He’s been preparing for this conversation, it seems, without Kenma’s knowledge. There’s been a game plan calibrating itself inside his thick skull.

“I don’t like Shouyou,” he says, his voice steady, unconsciously reaching towards Kuroo until the fabric of his shirt crumples in his fingers. All of the frustration wells up in him suddenly, at the dissatisfaction that they’ve been living in half-steps. Kuro’s stuff is here, but he’s not. Like he’s been testing the waters and testing Kenma instead of saying what he wants — instead of saying what Kenma wants out loud, the way he always has when he knows Kenma has trouble saying what’s on his mind. Maybe that’s not fair, but that’s how they’ve always operated.

“I— you,” Kenma says feebly, failing to get his words to come out. Kuroo’s eyes are too intense, so he ducks forward, pressing his head into the hollow of Kuroo’s neck, where he smells like faded cologne and cigarettes. His heartbeat is steady and he doesn’t make Kenma’s heartbeat faster, but he makes it easier to breathe.

“Kenma… you what?” 

“I… hate your apartment,” Kenma mumbles. “I hate that you leave your laundry in my dryer and I have to fold it. The next time you do that, I’m rewashing your clothes and leaving it there so it molds.”

“Ah, sorry,” Kuoro says, his hand hesitantly hovering over the back of Kenma’s head. Kenma shifts closer, climbing on to his lap, hip bumping messily against the edge of the table that’ll surely bruise him. “I’ll be better about it.”

“I’m too short to reach the clothing line you put up. And you keep leaving your beers in my fridge, even though you know I don’t like that kind.”

“When did this just turn into complaints against me?” Kuroo says, loosening up enough to settle his big hand on his waist. 

“It bothers me that your toothbrush is here and half of your clothes and you still knock — you never even asked for a key. I hate your apartment. It’s wasteful. You’re wasting your money. Do you get it yet?”

Kenma looks up, glares at him for making him say too much.

“I got it, I think. You never… asked.”

“Was I supposed to?”

Kuroo sighs again, looking up like he’s asking for god to send him the right words. “You’re really difficult,” he says and then laughs. 

“I’m not,” Kenma says. He thinks he’s easy, predictable. He orders the same things at the same 6 rotating restaurants they go to. “Maybe I am, to other people. But I shouldn’t be to you.” 

Kuroo doesn’t say anything and just hugs him closer, his hot breath puffing against his shoulder. Kenma reaches up to curl his fingertips into Kuroo’s spiky, soft hair. It hasn’t gotten any better with age. Kuroo’s shirt is slightly damp with sweat and Kenma doesn’t mind so much.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked Shouyou. When have I ever said anything about Shouyou?” 

“You do act differently with him.”

“He’s a good person. He isn’t nosey and doesn’t expect anything from me, so I like him because he’s easy to be friends with. And he’s not very smart, so it makes me want to take care of him like a hamster or something.” 

“Mm. Breaking the lease is going to be a pain.”

“That’s your fault,” Kenma says, with no remorse. 

“I was scared,” after a shaky inhale.

“Why?”

“Because I want you so much, but I felt like maybe, if I didn’t give you a chance to… branch out and be on your own—”

Kenma stops him with a gentle press of his lips to the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t want to be on my own,” he whispers, pulling away so he can look at Kuroo’s freshly kissed mouth and see if it looks any different. It doesn’t, but Kuroo’s got his eyes closed and his lips tugged up, like he’s thinking about the future. 

\---

“How did you even fit this much in your apartment?” Kenma says, folding his arms across his chest when Kuroo marches past Bokuto with a box.

“You’re not even helping with the boxes, what does it matter?”

“You’re letting flies into my house.”

“ _Our_ house,” Kuroo corrects him, setting down a box labelled ‘v-ball’ on to the desk that’s going in his office.

“Are you paying the mortgage?”

“No.”

“Then it’s my house,” Kenma says, pressing a freshly cut key into Kuroo’s upturned palm.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr or twitter! @got2ghost


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